


Waiting Games

by Evil_Little_Dog



Series: Lucifer Shorties [11]
Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Questions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-02
Updated: 2019-01-02
Packaged: 2019-10-02 12:51:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17264582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evil_Little_Dog/pseuds/Evil_Little_Dog
Summary: Trixie has some questions about her mom while Chloe's in the hospital. She wants Lucifer to answer them.





	Waiting Games

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cookiegirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cookiegirl/gifts), [Cornerofmadness](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cornerofmadness/gifts).



Hospitals have become Lucifer’s least favorite places in Los Angeles. He felt he’d spent far too much time in them, waiting on Chloe to wake, dying, reviving, well, certainly too much time. And here he sat again in the waiting room on a decidedly uncomfortable chair (though a step up from those horrid chairs in the Detective’s spawn’s school), waiting again for Chloe to wake from a medically-induced nap. 

“Lucifer!” 

“Speaking of me,” Lucifer muttered, half-rising to his feet as Beatrice barreled across the waiting room. She crashed against his thighs, her head butting into his stomach. “Ah, child.” He glanced around, spotting Mazikeen. She strolled toward him, her black leather outfit attracting attention. Well, Mazikeen attracted attention, what with her body quite literally built for sin. 

“Lucifer,” she drawled when she was close enough. 

“Maze.” He glanced down at the child still attached to his leg then back at Mazikeen. “What brings you here?” At her smile – broadening as he watched – Lucifer added, “Both of you?” 

“Trixie wanted to see Decker.” Mazikeen shrugged, eloquently, Lucifer thought, but she was being watched and she would always take advantage to show herself off to heighten her sexuality. “I brought her.” Her gaze trailed sideways to a doctor who looked as if he might’ve stepped off of some L.A. hospital set. The doctor, seeming to feel her appraising look, raised his head from the notes in his hand. He actually side-stepped, nearly running into Trixie. Lucifer shifted her out of the way as the doctor continued on his way, head swiveling to keep Mazikeen in his sight as long as possible. “And I,” Mazikeen said. “I have something to take care of myself.” 

“But the child, Maze!” Lucifer’s protest fell on deaf ears. Letting out a disgusted noise, he attempted to pry Beatrice off. “Child. Beatrice!” 

She sighed so hard, he could feel the heat of her exhalation. And then she sniffed, long and hard. 

“Gah!” He caught her shoulders and pushed her back gently. “Are you crying?” Of course she was crying. “Did you get mucus on my thigh?” 

“What’s mucus?” Beatrice swiped her hand across her face. 

“Stop that.” Lucifer fished out his handkerchief and handed it over. “Wipe your eyes and blow your nose.” When she obeyed, he thanked her. “No, no, you keep the handkerchief. I have others.” 

Beatrice wadded the silk - _silk_!- handerchief in her hands. Her reddened eyes stared at something around Lucifer’s knees. The downward curl to her mouth and slumped shoulders told quite a story of woe. Lucifer couldn’t blame her – her outward reaction to her mother’s most recent hospital stay was one he could relate to. This time, he could at least offer a reassurance. “Your mother is going to be fine. She is sleeping now. I know when she awakens, she will be happy to see you.” 

“I know.” Beatrice raised her eyes to him. “But I still worry.” 

Another similarity. “Your mother is a very strong woman.” The child stared at him expectantly. Lucifer wondered if he had dropped something on his suit or had a piece of lettuce in his teeth. “What is it?” 

“We need to talk.” She hopped into the seat next to the one he’d recently vacated. 

Lucifer blinked. Opened his mouth and closed it again. Beatrice glared at him and pointed at the chair next to hers. “Well, all right.” Lucifer sat down, shooting the cuffs of his shirt. The child’s serious expression made him wonder what she might want. “So. What shall we talk about?” 

Beatrice turned in the seat to face him. “Mommy.” 

“Your mother?” 

“Who else, your mother?” 

Well, she had played a rather large part of his life up until recently. “I suppose not.” He laced his fingers together and nodded. “All right, discuss.” 

She leaned in. Sucked her lower lip. And copied his finger-lacing. ”I need to know something and you’re the only person I can ask. Maze doesn’t really like Mommy. Well, she does, but she wouldn’t answer this kind of question.” 

Lucifer started to preen at the first part of the statement but as Beatrice kept talking, consternation took over. Whatever might the child think he was the only person she could ask? “Your father - “ 

“Daddy can’t answer this kind of question, Lucifer,” Beatrice said, somewhere between impatient and exasperated. “Just you, because of who you are.” 

“You mean...?” 

“You say you’re the Devil.” 

“I am the Devil,” Lucifer corrected. Gently. Kind of. 

Beatrice nodded. “So I need to know if Mommy’s going to go to Hell or not.” 

“What?” The question pushed him back in his chair seat. “Child!” 

“I need to know the answer, Lucifer!” 

Her intent expression demanded a serious answer. “Of course.” Lucifer re-laced his fingers, wrapping them around his knee. The position didn’t feel right so he rotated in the seat, leaning his elbow on the back of Beatrice’s chair. “Child, you know your mother is a good person, don’t you?” 

Beatrice dipped her chin in a nod. 

“Then that is your answer. Your mother is a good person. She may be one of the best people I know. There is no reason to think Chloe Decker would ever go anywhere but Heaven.” 

From the furrow in her brow, this was not the answer she was looking for. “Believe me, Beatrice. Your mother – and you, should you follow in her footsteps – will be going through the Pearly Gates, as boring as that would be. Your father, on the other hand.” Lucifer shook his head. “I am not so sure where he might wind up, but - “ 

“Lucifer!” 

“What? Isn’t that what you wanted to hear?” 

Beatrice sat back in her seat and folded her arms with a huff. “What about you?” 

“What about me?” Whatever did she mean, asking that question? 

“I know you like Mommy.” 

“Of course I like your mother.” 

“So what are you going to do?” 

He mouthed an answer – a question – still not quite understanding what she wanted to know. “What am I going to do?” 

“If Mommy goes to Heaven and you’re the Devil, what are you going to do?” 

The question cut deeper than he expected. “Well, child...Beatrice, I don’t really know.” 

“Monkey?” Daniel appeared around the corner, startled at the sight of his daughter. “Lucifer, what are you doing with Trixie?” He held out his hands to her but she dropped her hands to the arms of her chair, gripping them tight. “Lucifer?” 

“Your daughter is asking me questions,” Lucifer said. He exchanged a long look with Beatrice before looking up at Daniel. “Of a rather personal nature.” 

Daniel raised his hands and shook his head. “Far be it for me to come between – but I should. C’mon, Monkey, let’s go check on your Mom.” 

This time, Beatrice hopped out of the chair, joining her father. She hesitated and faced Lucifer again. “Thanks for talking with me, Lucifer.” 

He inclined his head. “You’re very welcome, child.” 

As he led Beatrice away, Daniel glanced over his shoulder at Lucifer. He shrugged minutely, offering the barest smile possible. Daniel rolled his eyes and he and Beatrice went through the door leading to the Detective’s room. Through the window, Daniel peered through at Lucifer before turning his shoulder. 

Lucifer let out an explosive sigh. His stomach churned and his heart actually hurt. Well, he certainly knew a remedy to both of those symptoms. “I need a drink,” he announced to no one. Rising to his feet, he strode through the hospital and out into the Los Angeles afternoon. Yes. This was better. He swung into his car, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. 

The edifice of the hospital loomed over him. Lucifer curled his lip at it. “You won’t win this time,” he said. “Dad. Speaking through a child? I think that’s beneath you. If you want to have a talk with me, why don’t you come down here and do it, hmm?” He sneered at the sky. “I thought not.” Shaking his head, Lucifer started the engine to his car. The Detective would heal. He would be fine. 

And Beatrice’s question, well, that could wait for another day.


End file.
